Empty Apartment
by forthecoast
Summary: She’s opening up, she’s letting me in. Maybe now is my chance to make things right between us, so that I can finally move forward instead of just moving on. - Entry for the C&P Summer Contest.


**Title:** Empty Apartment

**Author:** Ella

**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** _"She's opening up, she's letting me in. Maybe now is my chance to make things right between us, so that I can finally move forward instead of just moving on."_

**Spoilers:** Notsomuch. I think you're pretty much good to go. Except, there's a little tiiiiny spoiler for _Casablanca_ in there. But if you haven't seen that movie, that's YOUR fault. Not mine.

**Disclaimer:** Yeah right, they're not mine.

**Notes:** This was written for the coffeeandpie Summer Fic contest, where it won Mod Choice. That being said, this isn't what I would call my best work. Which, I suppose, might come from the fact that I wrote this during the week that I was packing my entire life up into boxes to move into my two by four college dorm room. (Word to the wise: don't ever try to write something coherent while you're moving from your nice, big house to a postage stamp). And even if you read it for the contest, I would highly suggest a read-over. The last day of the contest I realized that some of my formatting got lost in translation. It makes at least a little difference, I promise.

Also? Anyone who remembers me from last year may notice a change in username. I have my reasoning, so please just humor me. Although I highly doubt very many people remember me; I kind of disappeared from the world of fanfiction. But I'm back, and pretty much back for good. I've got several other fics in the work right now, and some of them actually have chapters that I plan on finishing, too.

Read on, my friends. Read on.

---------

_Answer no to these questions_

_Let her go, learn a lesson_

_It's not me, you're not listening now_

_Can't you see something's missing?_

_You forget where the heart is_

----

She wanders around the apartment aimlessly, still familiarizing herself with her new surroundings. Yawning, she collapses on the couch, perfectly content to flip past the infomercials and sappy Lifetime movies before settling on the news as suitable background noise. In reality, she's just about as interested in the happenings of the world as she is in dating Morris – the hazard of alternating night shifts and stacks of medical journals as an intern – but she keeps it on anyway.

She's neither paying attention to the television nor to her silent promise to actually unpack some of the boxes piled high in the far corner of the room. Her mind is buzzing with patients' names and procedures and medications, buzzing so loudly that she doesn't even hear the phone ring until it's too late.

She groans as Jeff leaves a short message on her answering machine before she gets up to remove it. She'll call him back later, when she knows he won't be home. _It's just not going to work out right now, not while I'm still doing my residency and my life needs to revolve around work _she'll tell him. And, hopefully, he won't call back.

She's tried dating casually, more to appease Susan than anything else. It's not that she doesn't want to date; it's that she has – apparently – set "incredibly high standards." Starting a completely new relationship now just doesn't seem right, and she knows from painful experience that relationships are all about timing.

She sits back down on the sofa, pulling a turtleneck over her tank top and shivering slightly at the sound of the bitter Chicago winds. And just as she tires of feigning interest in the television, she hears a soft knock at her door.

Confused at the interruption in her quiet evening, she turns the lock and opens the door. Her confusion intensifies in combination with surprise as she reveals a slightly windswept John Carter.

Before she can even nod her head in greeting, he opens his coat to reveal a small bouquet of flowers not entirely unlike the one she received the first night he ever came to her apartment.

"A housewarming gift. Little old lady at the flower counter refused to sell me the dead ones."

He grins impishly, and she gives a small smile in reply as she ushers him inside. She leads him over to the sofa, leaving him alone with his thoughts for a few minutes as she searches for a vase appropriate for the flowers.

He watches her as she bustles about the kitchen, searching for the storage place in question. Intent upon her goal, she pulls her hair – now in her original shade of brown – haphazardly back in a ponytail. He wonders what brought about this recent change in hair color.

But, then again, he wonders what brought about so many of these recent changes in her.

He returned from Africa expecting to find the tattered shell of a woman he thought he had left behind. The most hoped for was some semblance of the friendship they had once held. And, the childish side of him had subconsciously assumed that if she cared anything at all about their relationship, he might get some satisfaction from her reaction to his instant family.

On all three counts, he had been wrong.

He watches her in awe, wondering for the millionth time if this could possibly be the same woman who angrily demanded her key back, who looked him in the eyes and told him that people never changed.

Having finally retrieved the object of her search, she fills the vase with water before placing the flowers inside and retreating to the opposite end of the sofa. She sits cross-legged, leaning back against the cushions and distractedly moving a free wisp of hair behind her ear.

"So … ?"

"You moved."

"Yes, I did. I mean, I'd been living in my old apartment since right after Richard and I separated. In the fall I decided to start looking at places. I moved in about three weeks ago."

She looks up at him, signaling that her response is complete, and silence ensues. She knows exactly the question he wants to ask, but she won't give him the satisfaction of an answer before he raises it himself. It's part of their game, part of the rules. When he finally speaks, it's difficult to tell whether he's asking her, or himself.

"I just … I can't believe that I didn't know."

"You couldn't have known. I haven't sent out the change of address cards yet because I've been so busy between the holidays and my internship. The only people who really know are Weaver, who found out when I turned the papers in at work, and Sam, Luka and Susan, who helped me move in."

She continues this time without verbal prompting, as he raises his eyebrows to question her reasoning. She averts her eyes, refusing to meet his gaze before answering his silent request.

"I haven't really been interested in bringing the entire ER up to speed with the happenings of my social life. They'll all find out soon enough, and I figure they got an earful last year. That was more of my personal life than I ever wanted to roam the halls of the hospital." She laughs at this, more to cover up the heaviness of her chest whenever she's reminded of the humiliation brought about by that letter.

He's hesitant. For the first time, he's begun to see just how much of a role **he** had in the downfall of their relationship. It had always been easier to lament Abby's faults and addictions, resting the entire blame on her shoulders. In his mind, he had been the victim. He had only done what he needed to do. And of all the ways his mind has played tricks on him in the last eighteen months, this is by far the most destructive.

"I'm sorry, Abby. I'm so sorry. I never meant to send you a letter like that."

"You don't have to apologize for the letter, Carter … No, I mean it … Be sorry that you sent it directly to the ER to be read by all of my friends and coworkers. Be sorry that you broke up with me **in** a letter. Be sorry that I drove you to it in the first place. But don't be sorry that you said what you needed to say. Someone needed to do something to break our vicious cycle, and I probably wouldn't have done it on my own. And besides … in a lot of ways, that letter was the best thing that ever happened to me."

He looks at her incredulously. She breathes deeply and continues.

"It was the reality check I needed so badly. I heard every word of that letter, and it made me wake up. I realized that I couldn't keep on functioning the way I had been – going through the motions, but never really living. And pessimism and self-deprecation are only attractive in very small quantities. Sure, it hurt me to have to face reality and to know that we were over for good. But I learned a lot about myself, and I finally got up the courage to stop myself from holding back the second I reach an obstacle. If you hadn't sent that letter, I would probably still be the same miserable person who lets her family drama take over her life. I decided that I didn't want to be that person anymore, so I went back to medical school … I guess I was wrong when I said that people never really change."

In the realization that she's never been this honest with him, he's floored. He sees just how much she's grown since he left for Africa, and there's a sinking feeling in his stomach that the same growth has not yet occurred within himself. Guilt and remorse wash over him as he watches her, and he realizes that their relationship has become the polar opposite of the one he desperately tried to tear himself away from. He talks, she listens. He needs support, she gives it freely – no questions asked. He takes and takes, never even considering giving something back in return.

After everything they've been through, everything that's happened – and not happened – between them, she's still the only person he can turn to. And he knows now that he never should have given up on her.

Since the loss of his child, his safety net of instant family, she had been his source of strength.

They had spent nights over coffee while she listened to him talk about his father, his mother, Africa, Kem, his son, his addiction - the subject of their romance carefully avoided but ever-present. Hours upon hours of his grief have been poured out, and she's been attentive, patient, comforting. Genuine.

_She's opening up, she's letting me in. Maybe now is my chance to make things right between us, so that I can finally move forward instead of just moving on._

"Still, I'm so sorry. I never really meant for things to be over … between us. And I never meant to be the insensitive jerk that I acted like. I should never have let you find out about Kem the way you did. I wasn't thinking … And I was needy, so needy. Kem seemed like the perfect solution, something I thought was exactly what I wanted. A woman who seemed emotionally accessible, who didn't know a thing about my past. A child, a family. I wanted things to be easy; they were. Too easy. It was once I lost … the baby … that things went downhill. And we didn't even try to fix it. We had lost the only link we ever really had. Before, we had been so busy proving that we were in love that I forgot what being in love actually meant. It was all about providing for the baby, what would be best for him; I would have sacrificed everything … for my son."

His voice breaks, and the unspoken words, sentences left unfinished, echo violently in both of their ears. The implications of their silent understanding are too difficult for either to comprehend while their respective raw feelings are finally beginning to be soothed. He glances around the room casually while both search for a new topic of conversation. Neither one is ready for him to leave just yet, nor are they willing to delve any further in their current discussion. As Abby absorbs the multiple layers of his confession, his eyes settle on the pile of boxes sitting in the corner.

"Still have a little unpacking left to do?"

He's actually very impressed. It looks more like she's been living here for three years instead of three weeks.

"Oh, that? It's just stuff that I need to go through to decide what goes in storage and what gets thrown away. I was going to sort through them tonight, at least a little, but then I got home from work and the couch was much more appealing." He knows all too well the difficulties of internship. He was an intern twice, after all; he remembers the sleepless nights, the stress, the pressure. And yet, she doesn't look the worse for wear.

"You want some help, then? It's the least I can do after barging in uninvited."

Anxious for any means of being closer to her, for an excuse to stay even two minutes longer, he offers a service he doesn't expect her to refuse.

Wrong again.

"Thanks for the offer, Carter, but I don't think I've got the energy to start on those tonight. I … just … not now. I can't. I'm sorry."

He finds himself more than a little confused, suspecting that there's more to her reluctance than just sheer exhaustion.

Her eyes focus on a lampshade in the kitchen, and he moves closer to her on the sofa. His hand reaches out and turns her head gently so that she's forced to look him in the eye. He feels the intensity of the moment acutely, for although they've spent many a coffee break together since May, neither their physical nor emotional contact has ever existed to this degree of intimacy. What scares him more than anything is the subtle realization that this intensity is something stronger than even the pain of losing his child. And he wants nothing more than to remain this close to her for as long as possible.

"You can talk to me. I mean, I know I haven't been very available lately, but I'm always here. If you ever …"

"I know." She sighs and runs her right hand through her hair. "I just can't bring myself to open them yet. It's like I don't even want to know what's in there."

He's more confused than ever, but he refuses to let it show. He picks up her left hand and squeezes it affectionately, letting her know that he'll wait for her continue at her own pace.

"My dad. They're his things, things he left to me. He died, early in the fall. You remember I had to switch my schedule around a lot in October and November?"

How could he forget? The wild theories as to what was so important to constitute taking a whole three days off unexpectedly from her internship had been enough gossip to feed a hungry family for a year. And, if truth be told, it had piqued Carter's interest much more than he was willing to admit.

"Apparently he didn't have any other family worth mentioning in his will. He left almost everything to Eric and I … talk about a day late and a dollar short, huh?" She laughs pointedly, then continues. "I'm completely sure that it's all guilt money, left to us so that he could die with a clear conscience. But that doesn't mean I'm going to turn it down."

Once again she's rendered him speechless, more through the absurdity of it all. Why make an effort to reach out to your children only after you're dead and gone? Why even bother at all? And what possessed this man to turn around and walk away from his two young children in the first place? In light of his own brief brush with fatherhood, Carter could no better understand this last question than he could any time he saw a similar case in the ER.

Or maybe he could understand it. Abby's father just gave up and ran away, leaving Maggie behind not entirely unlike the way he had left Abby when he went of to Africa in search of answers.

_It wasn't worth it_, he tells himself. _You go across the Atlantic hoping to find an explanation for all your pain and suffering. You find everything you think you ever wanted, and you come home only to find that it isn't enough. You realize that nothing is worth it without Abby, but the realization comes too late. She's offered you her friendship, and that's what you have to settle for._

His thoughts are interrupted only when her voice snaps him out of his reverie.

"I've put most of it aside – for Mom and Eric. They're doing great now, but you never know what might happen sometime in the future. I've kept a little for myself, so I can pay you back for med school, among other things… Don't give me that look, Carter. I know you said I didn't have to. But I have the money now, and I want to."

"But …"

"No buts, not a word. I don't want to hear it. I don't like owing money to anyone, even if they **could** make my salary for the rest of my life in interest while we're having this conversation. Plus, I'll still have some left over once I set aside some for Maggie and Eric and the future."

The look in her eyes shifts from resigned to determined so quickly that it would have gone unnoticed by anyone else. He's able to see that she's working past the pain that she's kept buried inside since the age of seven. And, once again, he marvels at her strength.

"It's … I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so avoidant about the whole thing. It's just … he was supposed to be out of my life. It was his choice; he wanted it that way. In some ways, I'm glad to have the money. It's the least he can do after leaving us. But in other ways, it's just …"

"Confusing?"

"Yeah. I mean, I haven't seen him since the Thanksgiving when I was ten. He called once on Eric's birthday – a year or so later, and I haven't heard from him since. I thought I didn't need him; I don't want to need him. I just … He walked out, and he never came back. Nothing ever makes that **okay**. But then he goes and does something like this, and despite all rational thought, it makes it harder to **hate** him."

Once again, their conversation returns easily to silence, this time more comfortable than before. But in spite of the reassuring silence, Abby finds herself suddenly conscious of her state of apparel. It's not as though she should have anything to feel embarrassed about, but somehow this encounter has become a new beginning to their relationship, making her acutely aware of the fact that she's wearing scrub pants and a turtleneck sweater.

Carter becomes reluctantly aware of the fact that when the evening is over, he'll have to go home to an empty house. In light of the new peace he's found in the course of Abby's revelations, he is even less enthusiastic on the prospects of getting up to leave.

She, too, is unwilling to let the evening end just yet, as she realizes what this evening has meant to their once-fragile friendship.

"I was just going to watch a movie before I crashed for the night. You're welcome to join me if you want to."

She leaves an appealing invitation, a means of prolonging the evening without delving into any other conversations that may bring up past feelings of misery or regret. And he accepts without hesitation, joking easily that he'll even sit through one of those "boring old movies that you'll never admit you own."

So she obliges, standing up from the sofa to retrieve a suitable movie before popping it into the VCR and returning to sit down. And this time, she's not afraid to sit down next to him.

He pretends to groan as the opening credits to _Casablanca_ roll, but grins as she rolls her eyes and slaps his shoulder playfully. She knows all too well that he'll never admit to anyone else that he likes this movie as much as she does.

So she chooses to settle herself comfortably on the sofa, leaning against his chest, grateful for the chance to be close to him without having to carry on their confessions of earlier. It seemed as though whatever subject onto which they attempted to sidetrack themselves, everything led back to the same questions.

Though emotionally drained, she feels more at peace with herself after acknowledging the truth about her father and the move. In her subconscious, her motivation was to move past the painful memories; finding a new place was just a step in the right direction.

----

"Abby?" He inquires, as the final credits roll.

"Yeah?"

"What was our Paris?" … "You know, Paris. The one thing that no one can take away from us, no matter what happened in our relationship."

"Well, I would have said Doc's… But I guess that wouldn't work." She averts her eyes, avoiding his gaze while she considers an appropriate answer. With all of their history, the answer should have been obvious.

"Honestly, Carter? I don't know if I could tell you. It seems like everything we had went to pieces somewhere along the way."

"We'll have to work on that, then."

"I guess we will."

Reluctant though he is to leave, his watch informs him that it is now past midnight and he really ought to make his way home. He makes his way toward the front door, and she retrieves his coat from the kitchen table.

"I wasn't sure about coming tonight; I didn't know if I'd be interrupting anything. But I'm glad I did."

"I am too, John."

She moves forward to turn the doorknob when a question suddenly comes to mind. She turns her head back to look suspiciously at him.

"How did you know I moved in the first place, anyway?"

He lets out a quick laugh. "Susan. Said she forgot where she wrote down your new home number, asked me if I remembered it. She thought I already knew … Why?"

"Just curious. You can never have too many crazy stalkers, after all."

She grins playfully, and he returns her smile. And he kisses her on the cheek as she opens the door for him to leave.

"Thanks again, Abby. For everything. I've missed this."

She wants to respond, to shout a similar farewell to his retreating figure, but a combination of inhibitions holds her back. Instead she subconsciously traces the spot on her cheek where his lips made contact before closing the door quietly behind her. She moves into the kitchen and busies herself making tea.

Her thoughts, which had just hours earlier been busy swirling with patients and procedures, have now become occupied with the many questions that his presence in her apartment has raised.

She's still puttering around the kitchen a minute later when she hears a soft knock at her door. She walks purposefully towards the door before turning the knob she had not yet locked as Carter left.

Silently, effortlessly, his mouth descends on hers for the first time in eighteen months.

A few long moments later, he's pulling her into his embrace. "I almost forgot … Happy Birthday."

She grins and buries her head in his chest. The memories of past birthdays, past misery completely erased.

A clean slate.

There they stand: two people who have undergone a long but necessary change. Though in their separate transformations they became two very different people, the love remains unchanged – invariable in spite of itself.

She pulls back, her smile evident as she leans against the doorframe. As she raises her eyes to meet his, he smiles back. And in that instant, her empty apartment became a home.

----

_Fin_

_---------_

So. I'd love to hear what you guys think of it, even if you read it a couple of weeks ago. It's all for a good cause (Like, boosting my ego? An _excellent_ cause. Really).


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